


Gearstick

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Road Head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:49:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14058324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'Richard + roadhead, please?





	Gearstick

“<Fucking shit driver!>”

Richard leans out of the window, and you smile, looking over at him and shaking your head.

“Sorry, babe, I just… what an idiot.” He shakes his head, and looks over at you. “Thank god we’re not on the Autobahn. That’s insanity.”

“I know, Rich. I’ve watched enough _Top Gear_.” You look out of the window, and lower your sunglasses, feet up on the dashboard.

“If we crash,” Richard says, eyes on the road, “it’s because of your legs. They’re killing me.” You look over at him, and wink, running your fingers over your smooth legs. “I mean, you must be fucking crazy to wear shorts in Germany, but thank fuck you did.”

You reach over and squeeze his thigh, and he winks back at you; your hand wanders a little, up towards his crotch, and he tuts.

“(Y/N)… you are incorrigible.” He smirks. “That’s not the gearstick.”

“You’re the worst, Richard.” You stroke him, and feel him get hard through his pants. “Mmm… you like that?”

“Can’t you tell?” he says, and his voice is still jokey, but there’s a breathless little edge to it that makes you feel… naughty. You keep stroking him, and he switches lanes, eyes fixed straight ahead. “Don’t write cheques you can’t cash, sweetheart.”

Your response is to reach over and unbutton his jeans; you pull out his semi-on and stroke him, trying to sit up as much as possible. You never know when the police are going to drive past, after all. He exhales, and you see his eyes flicker towards you, a smirk on his lips.

“If we crash…”

“Then keep your eye on the road, sweetie,” you purr, and he grits his teeth.

“You’re gonna kill me. You know that?” he says, and you nod.

“That’s the plan.” You get an idea, and look at him. “Lift up your arm.” He looks at you. “Do it!” He lifts his arm up, and you duck under it, stretching a little to lick at his erection; you hear him gasp quietly, and then his arm comes back down, playing with your hair. “Can you reach the gearstick?”

“Yes,” he says, and you take him into your mouth; it’s a little awkward at this angle, but you run your tongue around it, and his breathing becomes a little heavier.

You can hear the cars all around you, and you feel a little fear - but that adds to the adrenaline, and you stroke him as much as you can in the cramped and awkward position you’re in, flickering your tongue against his head. His hand leaves your head as he shifts to change gear, and then returns to play with your hair.

“Fuck’s sake, (Y/N),” he says, hoarsely, and you take him deep into your mouth. “Jesus…” You pray to God he can keep it together as he drives, and massage his thigh gently, closing your eyes and concentrating. He shifts, and tries to thrust up into your mouth. You look sideways, and see his knuckles on the steering wheel have gone white. “I’m going to cum in your mouth…”

You slowly run your tongue up him before bobbing your head, running your lips along his entire length, and he curses a little.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I mean it…”

You don’t stop, and he tightens his grip in your hair, forcing himself up into your mouth; next second, you feel him cum in your mouth, and swallow, wiping your mouth and sitting up. He’s slumped against the driver’s seat for a moment, and then curses quickly and changes lane. You grin, and grab your bottle of Coke, swallowing it down to wash away the taste.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, and sweeps his hair back. “You’re going to be the death of me.” He looks at you. “We are half an hour away from you getting the fucking of your life at this hotel.” You wink at him, and he sighs. “Jesus…”


End file.
